


The Still Point of the Turning World

by MsEdelweiss



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsEdelweiss/pseuds/MsEdelweiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In theory, Esme's life should have stopped turning when she jumped from the cliff. The still point of that turning world prevented this, in an action that may well have set his own world into motion as well as restarting hers. The 281-year-old doctor never thought that a newborn vampire would be the one to uproot him from his ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga and all characters associated with it are the property of Stephenie Meyer. The poem used at the beginning of this chapter is the property of the Trustees of the E. E. Cummings Trust. Neither belong to me.

**I**

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere  
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done  
by only me is your doing, my darling)  
i fear  
no fare(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want  
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)  
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

_i carry your heart with me (i carry it in by e. e. cummings_

January, 1921

The thin sheet of black ice that shrouded the ground like clockwork every January, although the most visually stunning, was the hidden enemy of those who walked upon it, Carlisle concluded. Full of equal amounts of merriment and whisky, the humans who walked upon the glass-like layer believed themselves to be immune to its assault until they found themselves sprawled upon it.

It was in this light that the hospital was brought into a monotonous routine. The winter, filled with injuries sustained from falls or the chill, the summer, a vast majority of cases being sunstroke or burns of the extreme variety. They were punctuated by other cases that differed, automobile accidents seeing a paticular rise with the technological advancements of the decade, but Carlisle remained surprised at how utterally against humans the world seemed to be. This was very much the case tonight.

Carlisle turned and walked back to the shared office, finding it empty as he entered and filed the paper file he carried in the aluminium cabinet. Footsteps approached from behind, those that he wouldn't have heard from had he been human. He purposely fumbled over the cabinet for a few more seconds, only turning when he was sure that Doctor Williams was leaning on the cabinet behind him, propped up on his elbow.

"A body has just been brought into the morgue. I'm sorry to ask, yet again, but would you mind?" Both had often been on the long night shifts at the understaffed hospital. The dark circles under Carlisle's eyes and his pale skin gave the impression of fatigue. Doctor Williams' similar circles and slump as he stood demonstrated his very much real fatigue.

"No, not at all," Carlisle said as he held up one hand to stop the other doctor. "Were they pronounced at the scene?"

Doctor Williams shook his head. "They brought her in, but I pronounced the death. It would be near to impossible for anyone to survive the multitude or severity of the damage she suffered," He said, shrugging. "From what neighbours have said, she had a fondness for evening walks upon the pathways near the cliff; there's a lot of fog out there at the moment, the fishermen who found her are pretty sure she fell,"

Carlisle nodded. "Have any family been in contact?"

Again, he shook his head. "She lived on her own, and had no known family, not that anyone knew of at least. I think she stayed quite distant from the community, they hadn't seen much of her at all," He sighed. "It's a shame, she wasn't much older than my own daughter."

"You should go home to your family," Carlisle said. He couldn't help but see some of his own experiences in this isolated Jane Doe, but he didn't like to dwell on the similarities. As callous as it may have felt, if he were to dwell on every pitied past, he would remain trapped in the same cycle of thoughts. He pulled on his coat for appearances, picked up his briefcase and he left the office, "I'll fill in the paperwork on my way out,"

He heard a final thanks as he left the office and walked in the direction of the morgue. The blood, now much less of a pull to Carlisle, was a common scent throughout the veins of the hospital. It surrounded him but no longer taunted him. He wasn't surprised by the earthy undertones, the scents of lake water, plant life and dirt. As he walked closer to the morgue the scent so inconsiderably hidden beneath all of this sprung on him, like a cat waiting to pounce. Sandalwood and ginger, so distinctive that it couldn't be. Underneath all of the aromas intermingling with each other in their complex dance, one thing struggled for his attention. A struggling thump of a heart beat was being smothered beneath everything that originally fought for his attention. Oh, this was no corpse.

This was so certainly, so undeniably and inherently _her_ that it broke him. His marble hard exterior cracked as easily as glass. He wondered, for a short second, whether he should have turned that very minute and ran faster than he should have in the presence of any human, like he had ten years ago in 1911. He was pulled forwards and this time he allowed that invisible pull to have its wicked way with him.

There _she_ lay, her whole body covered by a sheet of pure white stained crimson. Her heart beat on, the slow and faint thumps pulling him closer and closer. Carlisle willingly let it do so.

The heavy metal door slammed behind him as he reached out to grab the edge of the sheet covering her. A wave of the boldest but purest caramel hair, closed eyelids which he knew hid eyes the colour of dry bark, and a wonderfully heart-shaped face.

"Oh, Esme, what happened to you?"

The once vibrant sixteen year old lay before him; her face was slightly more angular than it had been, her body remained slim, but was much softer. She had recently given birth, he could see that as clear as day, but the rest of how she had wound up in this situation was as unclear as fog, muddled and hazed. Her limbs protruded from her torso at abnormal language, contorted in a fashion unfixable for even the most precise handy work. Her lips, pink with undertones of a vile grey, were parted to reveal the blood pooled in her mouth, trickling from the corner in one long winding path. The lone path ran over her chin, between the valley of her breasts and pooled in the shallow dip of her naval. The rest of her body was covered in blood and dirt from where she must have landed. Her skin, which he once remembered to hold a natural tan, had turned to a sickly shade of grey. Not one surface of her skin remained untouched by the horrors she must have seen. Her own blood had wrecked havoc over her body, and her slowing heartbeat reminded him of that.

She had moved from the little farm in the outskirts of Ohio, something which she had spoke of ten years ago, but he could tell this wasn't all that had happened in the last ten years. Apart from the wounds she had received from her fall, there were others; there was a scar on her forehead and eyebrow, Carlisle could feel the poorly healed bones in her wrist. There were other poorly healed breaks as well to her ribs and nose when he looked closer. What had Esme been through to get here?

"Oh, Esme," he repeated, dumbfounded but only able to pity her.

He thought of Edward. Edward was young, too young for this life perhaps. He had been angry consistently throughout his newborn year, and slowly, in the two years his energy hadn't diminished, but he had begun to accept the life Carlisle had given him. He became happier in his new found strength and indestructibleness, despite remaining a teenager through and through. He revelled in his gift and his inhuman strength and this brought Carlisle joy. He missed his parents, particularly his mother. It would have been bizarre for him not to.

Carlisle couldn't imagine how Edward would react if he were to bring Esme home. He may accuse him of being selfish, subjecting another to our existence. He may resent him, and believe this was an attempt of Carlisle's to replace his mother. He may even become hostile.

But what would happen if Carlisle were to leave her? He and Edward had been reasonably content for the last three years, the addition of Esme to their group would change their situation entirely. Carlisle doubted whether he could be content knowing that he had left Esme in the morgue while the glimmer of life within her trickled through his hands like sand. The situation was entirely in his hands, but slowly slipping through as her heart beat grew slower and more feeble. His brain said to run, but his own still heart screamed the opposite.

His proverbial heart conquered in an easy victory.

Reluctantly he moved from where he knelt at the side of her gurney, and turned to the paperwork he had abandoned on the table. Faster than he would have done so in any other situation, he filled out the necessary information, and at the bottom, scrawled one last messy note.

_Cadaver donated to University of Wisconsin Medical School_

With no known family, there would be no suspicion around the donation, and by the time another ventured into the morgue, they would merely suspect that she had already been transported to the medical school. He filed the paperwork and turned back to Esme, where she still fought feebly on.

"Hold on, Esme," He didn't know if she could hear him, and if she could, he still didn't know if she would be able to make any sense of his whispered reassurances. He couldn't deny that they weren't even for his own gain, as he repeated her name like a prayer.

In order to protect body her modesty and shield her from the cold, he took off his coat and wrapped it around Esme, pulling it so that it lay snugly around her, holding her within it as he would wrap a glass ornament in newspaper. Her heart still thumped, although growing slower and slower with every beat, on the verge of collapse from exhaustion. He gathered her into his arms with ease, but cringed at how loosely she lay in his arms.

Knowing that the trail behind the hospital was relatively unlit, and that it would eventually lead him to the house that he and Edward shared in the most deserted section of forest, he took this route, abandoning the recently brought car at the hospital.

Carlisle ran, much faster than he believed he ever had before, but this movement still seemed so painstakingly slow as he listened Esme's heartbeat, and practically felt the heat leaving her body. He held her close to his own body, and was all too aware of her blood seeping through the thick wool of his coat and onto his jumper and shirt. This only prompted him to hold her tighter than him, as if under the impression that world was waiting to take her away from him again.

For a split second he wondered if this was a sick game that fate was playing with him. They had been brought back together through a random series of events, but was fate only dangling her in front of him, just to take her away again? If he slept, he would have thought he was dreaming.

Esme's head hung back and her climbs hung limply at her side; another reminder of her life slowly trickling away, a reason for Carlisle to truly use every resource in his possession to save her, and a reason for him to push his legs to move even faster than they had ever moved before. However fast he ran, it didn't seem fast enough.

He was unsure as to whether any of the words he whispered to Esme, asking, telling, _begging_ , her to hold on, actually formed coherent sentences. Carlisle did however hope that he was coming within the range for Edward to be able to hear him and would be able to gain some warning from the muddle inside of his head about the catalyst he was planning on bringing into their lives.

Edward did hear. As Carlisle approached the small house engulfed in amongst the trees, a faint light came from the front door, which hung open, and Edward stood beside it. His jaw gaped open, but he stood frozen on the front porch and his hair fell forwards, strands of bronze covering his eyes. Edward didn't utter a word until Carlisle rushed past him on the steps and through the doorway.

Edward followed Carlisle, slamming the door so hard that Carlisle was surprised the panelling around the door frame didn't break. "What are you doing?" Edward shouted, his voice uncharacteristically trembling, as Carlisle lay Esme on the sofa. Carlisle was almost completely oblivious to Edward as he knelt at her side, pulling the collar of his coat down slightly to give himself access to the jugular.

_You know what I'm doing_.

Her heartbeat was little more than a flicker now, and Carlisle leant down until his nose brushed against Esme's hair, only causing the venom to flow unguarded into his mouth even more than it had already done. He felt the slightest trickle from the corner of his mouth.

Carlisle was only mildly aware of Edward standing behind them, his eyes fixed on Esme in a mixture of horror and confusion. This had little impact on him, as without hesitation Carlisle sank his teeth into the skin of her neck, as it parted like water under his strength to release a tsunami of blood, and allow his venom into her bloodstream in exchange. Carlisle allowed his venom to enter into the open bite on her neck for as long as he dared before pulling away and spitting the blood that filled his mouth onto the floorboards next to him, despite all of his deepest instinctive telling him to savour each drop of the precious elixir.

"Carlisle," Edward's voice was tense. He turned to see Edward, his eyes darkened significantly, rooted to the ground like a tree that had been there for centuries, staring at them. One hand was clutching at his throat, while the other smothered his mouth and nose. It was only then that he recognised that not only was Esme covered in her own blood, but he was now covered as well. The white shirt he wore was completely stained crimson and blood had seeped through to the under-shirt he wore beneath. His white skin was stained on his neck and along his jawline, as were his lips. Carlisle felt like he looked more like the vampire of fiction that he had ever before in his years. Edward's thirst had been pushed to the limit as he backed towards the door. "I can't stay," he all but gasped as he left the house.

_You'll come back?_ Edward looked back at him and nodded, just before disappearing into the dense forest.

Carlisle turned all of his attention back to Esme. She hadn't moved an inch since he had bitten her, but he could tell that his efforts had been enough to increase her heart rate in the slightest. Concerned that this wasn't enough to push her through the transformation, he pulled the collar of the coat aside and sank his teeth into the skin under each arm. She hadn't moved like Edward had, or even made a sound of protest. Was he too late? No, it wasn't. She didn't move as suddenly as Edward had at this stage, but he hadn't suffered damage like she had. A gurgling sound emitted from her throat. It was quiet, but that one sound was all of the reassurance he needed. Her eyelids flickered a fraction, the whites of her eyes being visible for less than a second, more than enough time to reassure Carlisle.

Strangely he found himself smiling. From here onwards he could be sure that Esme would be able to see it through the transformation, and he wondered, for a split second, whether her spinal damage would mean that the beginning of the transformation, before any of the healing took place, would be painless as she remained numb. He couldn't be sure of this until Edward came back, but she expressed no pain as Edward had.

"You're going to be alright," he reassured her, but there was also a high possibility that he was similarly reassuring himself, knowing that Esme would survive the transformation. As if on cue, he heard the faintest sound originating from the very core of her body, almost silenced by the rapidly speeding up beat of her heart. It could only be compared to the crackling of embers in a fire, and Carlisle know, as the healing of her bones began, this would soon lead to Esme becoming aware of the burning carried through her body by his venom.

In that moment however all Carlisle could do was sit at her side, his position on his knees unchanged, as he watched the healing process with fully consuming curiosity. It happened slowly at first, as the crackling sound continued and her bones mended themselves before him, first her spine, and then spreading to the other breaks throughout her body. In wonder, he looked on as her unnaturally twisted wrists straightened, and her legs slowly shifted back into a normal position. He had witnessed transformations many times before, but not one of this nature. This was an alien experience, but as time went on, he became more and more at ease at Esme's side.

When Esme's fingers grasped the sleeve of his coat, Carlisle knew that her internal injuries were healing as well, including the spinal cord, along with all feeling in her body. There was nothing he could do to even touch at the pain that the burning brought, but he soaked a dishcloth from the kitchen with cold water, and laid it across her forehead in hopes that it would provide some light relief. Esme's legs thumped against the cushions of the sofa as she kicked them, but he took both of her arms in his own this hands this time, and tried to wrap her upper body in his arms, although this proved to be difficult as Esme's movements became more violent and erratic. Edward had once admitted that when Carlisle had held him still during his transformation, the burning lessened a fraction.

Esme had started to cry out as the abrasions to her skin stitched themselves together, and Carlisle could now see that as her external injuries disappeared, her external pain only worsened. He held her closely as she threw her head back and cried out; she sobbed and screamed, all while he leant close so his lips were right at her ear and spoke to her. He didn't know if she could hear him at this stage, or comprehend what he told her, but Carlisle reassured and comforted her, sometimes full coherent sentences, but other times only the most important snippets.

Carlisle didn't know how long they stayed like that, he hadn't been keeping track. But he gripped both of her hands in his own, and although she fought against his grasp at first, her struggle seemed to fade slowly. The light of the moon was visible when he looked up through the window and feel the drop in temperature through the gap at the bottom of the door. This told Carlisle that the first day of the transformation had passed.

All traces of injury, excluding the now dried blood covering her skin and matting her hair, had disappeared. She was far from at peace, struggling more than ever on the sofa, her back arched and her knuckles white as she cried out, her face tear streaked and her expression troubled.

Reluctantly Carlisle left her side, only to return minutes later with a basin of cold water and sponge. He washed over her body with the sponge, soaking her skin and ridding her of the shell-like dried blood that covered her. Meticulously he carried on until the water from the wrung out sponge ran clear and the bucket was full of the all-invasive translucent red.

In a brief moment of silence between Esme's surges of pain, he sat back and watched. Without the blood caked onto her skin and in her hair, she could have been sleeping. Of course it would have been a restless sleep. Even when she didn't make a sound, she turned her head from side to side with her brow furrowed and her eyelids squeezed tight shut. Her mouth hung open ever so slightly, and if he listened closely, he could hear a quiet expression of pain. This was an interval in her transformation; one that brought welcome relief. These moments were brief but valued, as for the majority of the time that he watched her, she continued to cry, scream and wail.

Esme was ever-changing. Her hair, now clean and void of the blood, was still damp, but where it was beginning to dry he could see the caramel that he thought of so fondly. Her complexion had developed from a sickly grey to the palest of pinks, the colour of a pink rose so light that it would have looked white to the untrained eye. Her features changed very little, perhaps sharpened and refined, but she had changed very little from the last time he saw her. Carlisle wondered if she had changed much at all in the last ten years. He hoped she hadn't. He hoped that despite whatever had happened to her since they met, she had retained the light that burned within her, that her spirit hadn't been filed down until it didn't resemble any essence of Esme. He hoped she had been sudden. It seemed irrational, he thought, that he should know so much of someone he had known for a mere few days.

Selfishly, Carlisle hoped that Edward would come home and tell him about her. He could see Esme becoming more conscious of him and her surroundings. She had feebly wrapped her fingers around his as he held her hands, and he knew he could never bring himself to shake her touch away. Perhaps Edward's ability would work on her now? Edward could fill in the blank space that was the last ten years, tell him how aware Esme was, tell him _about_ her.

His insatiable thirst for knowledge had now moved on to Esme, but it could not be quenched. They were alone in the poky drawing room, the two of them illuminated in the same light of the fire He had burnt both his clothes and the coat, knowing the smell of human blood would be overwhelming for Esme and Edward alike. Carlisle had instead dressed Esme in a button-down shirt and slacks of his own, cinched at the waist with a belt, and left her feet bare. The clothes drowned her, and he was sure that Edward's would have been a better fit. Carlisle was still unsure as to how Edward would react to her though. He initial reaction hadn't been at all telling. Although Edward as mentally a twenty year old, a large part of him was still seventeen, both inside and out.

Carlisle didn't know how Edward would react to Esme. He didn't know how willingly he would accept her, if he would want her with them, or how he would treat her.

Carlisle himself was surprised that this didn't bother him as much as he thought it should have. He hoped Edward would warm to Esme, but he didn't want to leave her again.

Then he heard those all familiar heavy footsteps on the ground outside, kicking dirt as if instinctively as they went. Edward entered into Carlisle's field of vision. Edward was ironically hard to read in this moment. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes pointed down, a seemingly sombre gesture, but Carlisle knew this was a neutral stance for him. Edward was no open book, his pages were blank to anyone but himself. There were moments of clarity in which he felt himself growing closer to Edward, and moments in which Edward would turn to Carlisle for guidance, but these were punctuated by Edward's cautiousness and Carlisle's comfort in solitude.

Carlisle left Esme's side to open the door. It was a gesture of welcoming and acceptance more than anything. Both of them knew this and Edward returned his acceptance, and willingly walked straight through the door passed Carlisle. He watched Edward as he approached the sofa where Esme lay. Edward sat on the edge of the walnut coffee table and watched her with a strangely cautious curiosity.

"Why her, _in particular,_ then?" Edward looked up at Carlisle, who was still stood at the door.

"Her name is Esme," Edward remained silent, now watching Carlisle with a raised eyebrow. "I met her ten years ago, when she was sixteen," Carlisle didn't need to be prompted to recall the memory in perfectly refined detail. He watched as Edward processed the detail, coming to his own silent conclusion and nodding slowly.

"She remembers you," he stated, this time boding to Esme. "She cannot place your voice yet, but she remembers it. Her human memories are adjusting themselves, reorganising."

Carlisle suddenly found himself self conscious of his every word. "What else does Esme remember?"

"Apart from you? She remembers who _she_ is. I'm not getting whole memories, snippets more so. I can see a newborn child. Sick, apparently. I can see a cliff-"

"Yes, she fell," Carlisle retorted.

There was a concern behind Edward's eyes. It was a strange mix of horror and confusion. He looked Carlisle straight in the eyes with the lines of someone much older than himself upon his forehead. "No, she jumped, Carlisle," Edward looked down at Esme on the sofa. "That memory is the clearest of all of them. The baby and then the cliff,"

Carlisle pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. "No, no." He all but moaned under his breath.

Edward's expression moved to one of mild distress. "Carlisle, Esme thinks she's dying, being punished..."

In any other time Carlisle would have tried to offer some comfort to Edward, as much as he would accept, but he made the quickest movement he had made in the last three days. He leaned across Edward and grasped both of Esme's hands where they lay at her side. She seemed exhausted by the transformation, but he hoped that it was a sign of the burning waning. She lay in silence except for her laboured breathing, and her eyes were parted slightly. Carlisle could have fooled himself to believe that she was watching him, but he knew it was likely that she could see very little at all, if not only darkness, even in the later stages of her transformation. She cried silently as the very last of the human fluids departed from her body.

"No," Carlisle repeated once again. "Esme, please listen to me. You deserve no suffering, and I will do-" He stopped briefly, correcting himself, "-have done, all that is in my capabilities to stop it," Carlisle felt as if he had entered a contract with Esme, as he had done with Edward three years ago. He had a duty to guide them in this life, being the one who brought them into it himself. He carried on, reassuring Esme, repeating himself over and over as his promise became a mantra.

He was mildly aware of Edward beside them and he looked up at him from where he sat next to Esme. "Is it too much? You could-"

Edward shook his head. He wore the strangest of fond smiles that Carlisle could not read. "No, I will stay," Edward reassured "Her memories are becoming clearer, and her heart is making the final push. I give her an hour."

Carlisle nodded, surprised that he hadn't noticed himself, that Esme was so close to awakening. He knew he should have felt pleased, but nerves washed over him.

"I shouldn't of done this." _She committed suicide. I denied her what she wanted._

"No, Carlisle. She recognises and remembers you more clearly now." Edward smiled, this time the pages of his book were full of Edward's spider like scrawl. I am no psychic, and I know what she wanted three days ago as if they had been my own thoughts, but the more you speak to her, the more her thoughts change."

Carlisle didn't need another cue to turn back to Esme.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came across a copy of a Carlisle/Esme fan-fiction that I wrote when I was 12 (I am now 18!) and it was awful, thankfully never uploaded. I haven't touched anything related to twilight since this time really, but I wanted to have a go at rewriting it to see how my writing had changed, so here we go! I have a lot of time on my hands before I go off to university in two months, but it can take me a while to write a chapter and even longer to edit it (I'm dyslexic, perhaps that explains it!) I would really love it if you told me what you thought of my first chapter.


	2. II

 

Of all that had happened in the last few days, Carlisle was most surprised by the reaction of Edward. He had acted as Carlisle had expected in the first two days, but something had triggered a change in him.

Several hours after his initial return, he revealed to Carlisle that he had travelled to the hospital shortly after he had left, and informed them that Carlisle was on bed rest, plagued with a case of the measles. Carlisle was surprised that he hadn't noticed the car parked in its normal position to the side of the house under the shade of an aged oak, but Edward had driven it home.

Any qualms about Edward's acceptance of Esme's arrival disappeared, when, on his own accord, Edward announced that he was going shopping for women's clothing.

"She can't wear our clothes all of the time," Edward had stood up from where they sat together on the coffee table. Carlisle looked up at him inquisitively, silently prompting him elaborate. Edward simply shrugged. "Women- well, at least my mother did- like clothes,"

Carlisle half smiled. _Thank-you_. He watched as Edward left, refusing Carlisle offer of money with a simply shake of the head.

Carlisle wondered how he had been so oblivious on two different grounds. Firstly, he had underestimated Edward. He may have been young, but he was well-mannered and much calmer than he had been in the previous two years. Secondly, he had failed to realize how much Esme's arrival would change the dynamic in the house between Carlisle and Edward. The more Carlisle watched Esme, the harder the realization struck him that she was different to Edward and himself.

She lay motionless now, as if she could have been sleeping. Carlisle had rested her hands at either side of her torso and she hadn't resisted. She was so inherently feminine that Carlisle found himself almost incoherent under her oblivious spell casting. Her features were soft, and her hair fell in subtle curls to just above her elbows. It was upon these simplistic observations that Carlisle realized he had little experience of women of their kind. He had met nomadic vampires, and those in the Volturi, but realized he knew very little about them at all. He felt threatened to an extend as a result of the unconscious women that lay across from him.

Everything about her reminded him of this. The silhouette of her breasts underneath the loose cotton of his shirt and her wide hips. Her thoughts of children - oh, her thoughts!

How hadn't he noticed the signs of recent pregnancy on her body? There had to have been a child. If she was here, and he had found her in such a state in the morgue, then he couldn't stop his mind from screaming at him that he had orphaned a child. He had left an infant motherless as he had been as a human. Esme wouldn't have, he concluded. She wouldn't have taken her life when another had depended on her so closely. He knew very little in retrospective from their meeting in 1911, but one thing that he was certain of, was that Esme's soul was one of love and kindness.

Even knowing that he had not left the newborn orphaned, Carlisle felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Esme had committed suicide, there was no escaping that, and he could be sure that whatever had led her to suicide would remain in her new life, no matter how much he wished it wouldn't. It now seemed glaringly obvious to Carlisle that she wanted to join her son, and her late husband, in Heaven. He had cruelly denied her this in a rash and selfish decision.

"I'm sorry," Carlisle sighed. There was little he could do but apologise to Esme. He continued to do so, laying his hand on top of hers. He couldn't take her hand in his now, it felt wrong. An action as forward as that felt awful in respect to his recent discovery. Carlisle could have sworn the corners of her lips shifted slightly upwards, but he couldn't fathom why at all. He hoped it was because she had heard his apologies, and accepted them with open arms. Carlisle knew there was no way of being certain.

Carlisle continued going around and around in circles of thought, as he once again waited for Edward to return for his own selfish use of Edward's ability. Carlisle kept trying to convince himself that Esme might forgive him, but as he sat in silence with her, he knew that was a ridiculous line of thought. He had taken her literal dying wish away from her, and denied her from entering Heaven alongside her child. There was no worse crime he could have commit.

He was now fully aware of Edward approaching the house, this time with two packages in his arms, each tied with string. He placed them at the side of the door as he entered, and walked to where Carlisle sat, looking down at both of them.

Carlisle didn't look up, instead blankly watching over Esme. "She had a baby,"

"I know," Edward replied, "I think he died," he added, somewhat reluctantly.

Carlisle wrung his hands together, feeling rather interrogated underneath Edward's watched, although still unsure of how the younger man felt about the situation. Finally, he came to a conclusion. The conclusion was remarkably not complex considering the detailed internal argument he had been having with himself over the last couple of hours. "She will not be happy,"

Perhaps that was what upset Carlisle the most. It was a well-established fact in his mind that the last ten years had not been happy for her, but he had doomed her to possibly even more sorrow for the rest of eternity.

"I don't know," Edward said, uncharacteristic in his uncertainty.

Carlisle looked up at him in confusion, his expression willing him to give an explanation.

Edward shrugged. "Her mind is very clear now, but she isn't particularly _feeling_ anything. More than anything, Esme wants to know where she is. Her senses have refined now. I think she'll wake up soon." He looked around, as if unsure of his position. His eyes finally settled back on the packages next to the door. "I'll take those upstairs."

Carlisle nodded, and listened to Edward's footfalls on the stairs as he walked away. He was left alone with Esme with a sudden sense of unease at the thought of Esme's impending reaction. This crept up on Carlisle much faster than he would have wanted, as her heart beat in a way that it might have been about to bound out of her chest, running wildly and taking any sense of control over the situation that Carlisle had.

"Edward," he called out, still unused to speaking out loud to Edward, although they had both recognised that they would need to stop their practice of seemingly one-sided conversation now Esme would be living with them. Carlisle was surprised to find his voice shaking slightly, but he didn't need to explain any more, as neither of them needed Edward's gift to know what was about to happen.

Esme's heart came to a stop abruptly, after a long uphill struggle. She lay still though. Her heart had stopped, she took her first breath, deep and grasping. Carlisle watched her in strange curiosity as she inhaled, taking in the masses of scents around her. She took in the leather of the newly cleaned sofa, the old books of Carlisle's on the shelf, the forest outside. Her eyes opened slowly, revealing the bright red of her irises.

Carlisle was aware of Edward behind him, standing in the shadow of the bookcase, visible to Esme but far. He allowed Carlisle to take the lead, not wanting to startle Esme, but unsure of how she would react, not knowing whether she would fight against them.

"Esme?" Carlisle asked simply as he approached.

At the sound of his voice, one that she remembered so well, Esme sat up suddenly, swinging her legs around so that she was in a normal sitting position. An expression of shock passed over her face briefly at the discovery of her new found speed and strength.

Carlisle looked on in mixed shock and surprise as, despite confusion evident across her face, she smiled. A somewhat bemused smile, as her mind raced over the questions that Carlisle guessed were brewing inside of her head.

"Doctor Cullen?" she responded finally, her eyes fixed only on Carlisle. They were a shocking red, but somehow, she looked gentle, the exact opposite of how any newborn Carlisle had seen looked. In that moment, when she sat in front of him looking at him with wide eyes, Carlisle realized he hadn't put a single thought into what he would say to Esme when she finally woke up, especially considering how different she was to Edward.

"Esme, I'm sorry," he finally said, after a couple of moments silence. "I had to save your life."

"How did you do it?" She asked him. Carlisle could practically hear the tentativeness creeping into her voice. Carlisle could see that she understood that this was beyond the works of any normal doctor. There was no easy way to tell her this.

He held his hands together over his middle and took a tentative step forwards, watching her intently for any sign of fear. He saw nothing, so took another step forwards, and another, and another, until he was sitting beside her, perched on the side of the sofa. He wanted to take her hand like he had during her transformation, but he knew he couldn't. "This is Edward," he gestured to Edward, who had taken a couple of steps forwards as well until he was in full view. Carlisle was well aware that he was prolonging the most important thing. He looked to Edward, looking for guidance, but he simply shook his head.

"What's wrong?" Esme said, having noticed Carlisle's reluctance. Her eyes flitted from Carlisle to Edward, and back again, in quick succession.

"Nothing is wrong," Carlisle reassured her. "In order to save your life, I had to transform you into one of us. Edward, myself and now you, we are vampires." He prepared himself for her reaction, although he had no clue as to what this would be.

She didn't say anything. Both of them watched each other silently, as Carlisle unsuccessfully tried to predict her next action. "Doctor Cullen, I don't think this is funny," she said quietly, still watching him with concern evident on her face. Carlisle knew this would never be an easy conversation.

Edward had now moved to behind the sofa where they both sat. He shook his head, looking at Esme. "No, he's telling the truth. It is bizarre, I know," Esme's gaze snapped up to Edward as he spoke, but Carlisle couldn't help but notice that she was leaning away from both of them. He didn't blame her considering how strange the situation honestly was.

"Edward," Carlisle hissed quietly, hoping that he would listen to him and not scare her with his abilities. He did, as Carlisle realised both sets of eyes were now on him. He watched Esme carefully, trying to judge her state of mind from her actions. She still watched him, although patiently, not as he would have accepted a newborn to act, like a cat waiting to pounce.

She didn't though. All of a sudden, her expression changed to one of apparent shock. "My baby," she whispered, but then her voice grew more frantic. "What about my son? He was so tiny, and so pure-" Carlisle could see Esme begin to crumple before his own eyes.

"I'm sorry," He said, not quite knowing what to say. All he could do was repeat his apology, and watch as her exterior crumbled. If she were human, she would have been crying, he could see that. "He was too young, Esme, I couldn't have saved him in the way that I did for you. He was too young, it would have been unfair to leave him trapped as a baby. I'm sorry,"

She wasn't looking at him, instead tracing the patterns of the sofa with one elegant index finger. She remained attentive, though; he knew she was listening intently. "Of course you couldn't have," she murmured, still not looking up at either Carlisle or Edward.

She suddenly looked much less like the powerful newborn vampire that she was, much smaller, with her arms held close to her and her knees pressed against her chest, her eyes somewhat vacant. "I want you to know, Esme, that I would have done everything I could to return him to you if I could. I regret taking you away from him." He wondered if she would catch the hidden message in his words, that he thought himself selfish for thwarting her suicide attempt.

The way in which she looked up and met his eyes confirmed this loosely. "No, thank-you. I'll miss him more than any words can express, and I'll continue to," she paused for a second, and the sadness that lay under her red irises stabbed him like tiny needles. "But thank-you," she repeated.

"You don't need to thank me, Esme," As he said this, he noticed her bring one hand up to rub at the base of her throat, and he could have cursed himself for his negligence. "We are rather different to the traditional vampire of folk law," he said, hoping that fact would act as some relief, as pathetic as it may have been. "We do drink blood, but try to abstain from human blood, and drink animal blood instead," Carlisle explained, before quickly adding "You don't have to stay with us forever and live by our diet, but you are very welcome to."

"I don't want to kill anyone, Doctor Cullen," Esme retorted without a moment of thought. Carlisle should have known she would say that.

"Esme, call me Carlisle," he said as his the corners of his lips lifted in what he hoped she would interpret as a friendly gesture. He wondered if his smile visually grew when she returned with a small, barely even there, smile of her own. "You're throat must be burning, for a while your thirst will be a lot greater than mine or Edward's. We should take you hunting now,"

"Hunting?" she said in disbelief.

"I'll help you, and Edward will as well," Carlisle said, turning to Edward. As Esme followed Carlisle's gaze, Edward nodded reassuringly at her, confirming what Carlisle had said. He stood from where he had sat next to Esme and without thinking, offered his hand to her. Esme remained seated, looking at Edward, and then Carlisle and then his hand, processing what he had just told her. After a moment, she placed her hand in his, and Carlisle couldn't help but close his fingers around it as she stood up, and allowed him to walk her to the door. She could have easily pulled her hand" away with her superior strength, but apparently she hadn't realized just how strong she was, so Carlisle continued to guide her as he small hand lay limply in his larger one. Edward followed only a couple of steps behind.

Esme willingly let Carlisle lead her outside into the grassy, small clearing outside of their house. There, he let go of her hand, half expecting her to run, but she didn't. She stayed rooted to the spot, watching him as if for instruction. "Carlisle, you have no weapons," she said, looking down at his empty hands.

Before Carlisle had a change to answer, Edward interrupted her. "We have much more efficient methods of our own," Esme turned her head to look at him, confused.

"You'll see," Carlisle promised as he looked between the two of them. Edward looked back at him, a small grin on his face, and nodded, taking his cue. Edward took off at a run, still much faster than Carlisle despite being well out of his newborn year. As always, he ran effortlessly, moving from side to side to dodge the densely packed trees. Esme watched on, mouth slightly agape.

"You will probably be faster than him," Carlisle said, as he chuckled. "What can you smell?"

She looked at him cautiously at first, but he silently prompted her, looking in the direction in which Edward had ran. She followed his gaze, and stopped for a second, fully taking in the scent.

"It smells like animals," she said hesitantly.

Carlisle nodded, trying to encourage her. "Deer," he confirmed and nodded in the direction in which the herd was heading.

She hesitated. "I couldn't _kill_ one,"

"It's the kinder path, Esme," he reminded her. "I'll be right there. Go on, beat Edward at his own game," Carlisle tried to lighten the mood, but he could see that Esme was much more gentle than any other newborn he had met. He hoped she would overcome some of it, but by no means did he want her to become any less loving.

"You will be there as well?" She questioned again.

"Every step of the way,"

Her lips formed a small smile, and with surprising immediacy, she stepped into a run. Slowly, at first; Carlisle could easily keep pace with her. As she covered more distance, she grew faster until all Carlisle could see was her back from a distance. The billowing fabric of his shirt caught in the wind, pressing against her body, and the soles of her bare feet grew dark with soil from the forest floor, her hair that hang loose flew and fluttered like ribbons.

She was soon out of sight, but Carlisle knew where she was from the sound of her footfalls on the soil, inexperienced in the intricate details of hunting, lacking in stealth. He could hear when she approached a second set of footfalls, overtaking Edward. He could hear Edward speeding up, hot on her heals, but not overtaking her. Carlisle heard them both stop, pushing himself to meet them faster .

They had stopped a hundred yards or so away from the small herd of dear, watching undetected from the shadow of a large rock formation. Carlisle slowed to a walk as he approached, only catching brief snippets of the one-sided conversation between Edward and Esme; Edward told her to approach quietly, and slowly, and to avoid the direction of the wind, as they would smell her as a predator. Esme looked past Edward, her eyes locked on the resting deer.

"I can't kill them," she announced again with determination. Edward turned to Carlisle, waiting for his response. _Go on,Edward_. He prompted Edward. "Esme, watch us,"

Edward approached from behind, and Carlisle stayed close behind, aware of Esme's state burning into his back. When they were merely meters away, the first buck's ears pricked up, and Edward lunged, he ran behind the herd, enjoying the chase as he always did. Carlisle stayed back, stealthily snapping the neck of one of the last to move from their resting spot, and discarded it as his feet. He repeated this with two of the slowest at the back of the herd, before stopping and leaving Edward to his hunt.

He carried two of the three deer to Esme, who still stood watching him. Carlisle was careful to hold them almost too tightly, the force of his grasp tearing their skin and spilling the smallest amount of blood. It was minute, but he knew she would smell it, and he hoped that it would quench her thirst. She watched him cautiously as he approached her, one over each shoulder, and continued to until he dropped them both at her feet.

Carlisle pitied her in her reluctance, but could see that she was beginning to falter in her determination not to drink. The animal was much less appetising to the pallet, but thirst was evident across her features. "It's the only way," he whispered.

She didn't need another prompt, and in a sudden and unexpected movement, Esme lunged forwards, her newly enhanced teeth buried themselves into the neck of the deer, and Carlisle took the chance to drink himself, having been expectedly thirsty not having hunted in the days after biting Esme. Normally it wouldn't have taken him long to drain the buck, but in this instance he was distracted.

Carlisle repeatedly glanced up at Esme, unable to tear himself away from the sight of her for too long of a period of time. There was a strange sense of otherworldly grace in the way that she moved, even for a vampire. She turned from one deer to the other slowly, still finding her footing in her new body, unaware of Carlisle's prying eyes.

There was a small itch at the back of his throat, and he knew his eyes were darker than normal, but he didn't want to hunt anymore. He finished at the same time as Esme, and looked up to see her standing with the deer still at her feet. She didn't look at him even when he approached her. Esme was fixated with her outstretched hands, covered in the blood of her prey. She examined them in horror, turning them over and over as if she was waiting for the blood to disappear as quickly as it had appeared.

"Esme" He said quietly, not wanting to pull her abruptly from her trance.

Her eyes rose quickly to meet his and she self-consciously wiped her bloodied hands on the trousers she wore, creating new stains to match the ones that had travelled down the front of her shirt, or the smear of red on her cheek.

"Do you need to hunt anymore? I'm sure-"

She cut him off with a shake of the head. "I'm fine," she said, although her voice quavered ever so slightly. She shook her head again, more vigorously, as if she was trying to rid herself of some intrusive thought. "I'm sorry, it's just-"

"Strange?" Carlisle guessed, with a knowing smile.

She nodded this time, returning his smile. "I think that may be a slight understatement,"

"It gets easier," Carlisle said, but he wasn't sure how convincing he truly sounded. "Here," he said, quickly changing the topic, "We need to hide them," he gestured to the three drained deer.

Carlisle wordlessly led Esme to one of the smallest, most inconspicuous, trees in the clearing, gathering the three deer into a pile at the foot of the said tree. Knowing that Esme was watching his every move closely from behind, he wrapped both arms easily around the trunk and lifted it from the soil, until the long established roots were free from the ground, and he was able to drop the tree onto its side next to them.

"How did you do that?" he heard Esme say in amazement from behind. Carlisle turned to pick up the three corpses in one armful, ready to drop them in the unknown cavern that had previously lay undisturbed underneath the tree.

"I dare say you will be much stronger than me for the next year, at least," he reminded her over his shoulder as he dropped them into the earth and replaced the tree, brushing the soil back into place with his foot in order to disguise the recent disturbance. "I should teach you about our way of life thought, first," Carlisle turned back to her, nodding in the direction they had just come and beginning to walk.

"Shouldn't we wait for Edward?" she hesitated, turning to look aimlessly in the direction in which he had disappeared. She turned her gaze back to Carlisle, raising an eyebrow as he shook his head in response.

"He will come back when he has finished his hunt," Carlisle said. "For now, I think I should tell you a little more of our kind," He placed an hand on the back of her upper arm from his position behind her, but pretended not to notice when she flinched, jerking her arm away and holding it protectively against her chest. Carlisle couldn't help but notice a look of embarrassment as she looked down at the forest floor, but he pushed this to the back of his mind. It wasn't his place to pry, he thought, but he so wished that he _could_ know what had happened in her life to drive her to suicide. He wasn't to know until she told him herself, if she was to ever tell him, he was well aware.

The incident appeared quickly forgotten, although Carlisle wondered how much of a facade there truly was on Esme's part, as they ran in silence. Without any prompt, Esme slowed her pace until it matched that of Carlisle's. Even without a sound between them he was well aware of her closeness; the brush of fabric against him, even the skin of her arm scraping his own. He fought against the urge to watch her as she ran, as he had done before.

It didn't take them long to return to the small house. Carlisle hadn't wanted to stray far to hunt, not only for ease, but also encase a human happened to wander too close through the forest. It was a rare event, but Carlisle was wary of growing complacent.

He led her through the door, left open in their rush to hunt. This time, however, she watched more carefully as he led her though the living room, to the sofa once again. It was a bland room, and he wondered if she was used to a much higher level of grandeur. There weren't any paintings on the walls, and the furniture was not particularly elaborate. There was, however, a mirror propped against the mantle.

"A mirror?" She questioned, pointing to it.

Carlisle chuckled. "Yes, despite popular belief, we do have reflections."

Esme didn't look at him as he spoke, but slowly walked to the mirror. Carlisle wondered how she would react to her new features, but when she did lay her eyes on them, he scolded herself for not warning her in advance.

She let out a strangled gasp, her hand immediately being drawn to her cheek. "My eyes," she whispered, horrified. "Why are they red? They don't look like yours." she added quietly, shock evident in everything, her expression, frozen in the mirror, and her voice.

Carlisle knew he should have warned her, he should have known how she would have reacted. "They'll change, Esme, I promise," he said, his tone practically pleading with her to listen to him. She had turned away from the mirror, but avoided looking at him, instead examining the floorboards at her feet. "If you carry on with our diet, they'll change in a couple of months of look the same as mine and Edward's,"

"I look like a monster," she said before pressing a shaking hand to her mouth. That statement his Carlisle the hardest, and he felt a whole fresh wave of pity for her, for this life that he had given her. He wondered if she would resent him in the same way that Edward had, despite her practically accepting earlier reaction. He approached her slowly this time, making sure that she saw him, before taking her hand in his and leading her back to the sofa.

"You're not a monster, Esme. I will make sure that you are not, if that is what you want," he said as they both sat on the sofa in almost exactly the same positions as they had earlier before the brief hunt. "The Volturi, in Italy, make sure nothing gets too out of hand, and that we can live undetected by humans, but they don't follow the same lifestyle as us.,"

"I want you to help me, Carlisle, please." she admitted without a second doubt, almost desperate.

"Then I promise I will." he responded without any doubt of his own.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for the response on this chapter in the form of reviews, alerts and favourites, all is very much appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think!


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